CHAPTER THIRTY
JACK
The drive to the estate feels like a slow-motion car crash I can see coming but can’t prevent. Every kilometer brings us closer to the inevitable collision of my two worlds, and I am powerless to stop it.
I have rehearsed what to say a dozen times during the night, lying awake beside Sophia while she sleeps peacefully, unaware of what is coming. But when morning arrives, the words have evaporated, leaving only a hollow dread in the pit of my stomach.
Now we are here, and it is too late.
My family has assembled on the front steps like a welcoming party for visiting dignitaries—Dad in his casual but unmistakably expensive weekend attire, Mum in one of her designer dresses that she probably considers “simple,” my sisters arranged in what looks like a carefully choreographed tableau.
“Jack?” Sophia’s voice is unnaturally steady. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me before we get out of this car and meet your family?”
I turn to her, wanting to explain everything, knowing there isn’t time, knowing it is already too late.
“I’m sorry,” I manage. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, I just—”
“Mr. McKenzie!” Mrs. Petersen, our longtime housekeeper, appears at my window, beaming. “Welcome home! Everyone’s been so excited. And these must be your special guests!”
I see Sophia flinch at the “Mr. McKenzie.” I’d always just been “Jack” to her, to everyone at Metro General. The formality is the first crack in the facade.
“Mrs. Petersen,” I nod, forcing a smile. “Yes, this is Sophia Mitchell and her daughter, Madison.”
Madison has already scrambled out of the car, her eyes wide as she takes in the estate.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, turning in a slow circle. “This is like a movie set.”
I watch as Sophia composes herself, squaring her shoulders in that way she does before dealing with difficult situations at the hospital.
The charge nurse armor, I call it—her ability to project calm confidence regardless of her inner turmoil.
But I’d never been on the receiving end of it before, and it feels like a knife in my gut.
“Sophia,” I begin.
“We should greet your family,” she interrupts, her voice professionally pleasant. “They’re waiting.”
She is right. My family has started moving toward us, my mother in the lead, her arms already outstretched in welcome.
“Jackson!” she calls, using my full name as always. “Finally! We were about to send out a search party!”
I see Sophia register the “Jackson” with a slight tightening around her eyes. Another revelation. My mother reaches us, enveloping me in a perfumed embrace before turning to Sophia.
“And you must be Sophia! We’ve heard so little about you, despite our constant questioning.” She shoots me a pointed look before taking Sophia’s hands in hers. “Helen McKenzie. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you for having us,” Sophia replies with perfect composure. “Your estate is beautiful.”
“Oh, this is just the main house,” my mother says dismissively. “Wait until you see the rest of the property. The wine cave, the tasting rooms, and—” her eyes light up “—you absolutely must visit our kiwi conservation sanctuary. Jackson started it when he was sixteen.”
Another glance from Sophia, another twist of the knife.
“A kiwi sanctuary?” Madison perks up immediately.
“Yes, dear,” my mother beams. “We have a breeding colony of Tokoeka kiwis—the southern brown kiwi. Quite rare, especially outside their natural range. Jackson found an injured one when he was a boy, on a hiking trip to Milford Sound, and convinced Michael to establish a protected area.”
“That’s amazing!” Madison enthuses, while Sophia’s expression grows more strained.
My father approaches next, shaking Sophia’s hand warmly. “Michael McKenzie. Welcome to New Zealand. Jack tells us you’re quite the medical professional.”
“I’m a charge nurse at Metro General Hospital,” she answers. “Emergency department.”
“Fascinating,” my father replies, and I can tell he genuinely means it. “Much like our Jack here, always drawn to the frontlines. Though we had hoped he’d eventually return to help run the family business.”
I see Charlotte wince. At least one of my sisters recognizes the disaster unfolding.
Madison has gravitated toward Emma, who is already showing her something on her phone—probably rugby highlights, knowing Em. Lily approaches Sophia with her usual gentle manner.
“We’ve prepared the Blue Suite for you,” she says. “It has the best view of the mountains. Jack thought you’d like that.”
Sophia’s gaze flicks to me. “Jack did, did he?”
Lily, always perceptive, must have sensed the tension. “We can show you there now if you’d like to freshen up before the tour.”
“A tour would be wonderful,” Sophia says, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
My mother claps her hands together. “Perfect! Jackson, why don’t you help with the luggage while I start showing Sophia and Madison around? We’ll begin with the main house, then the original vineyard, and finish at the winery complex.”
Before I can object, my mother has swept Sophia and Madison toward the house, my sisters falling in alongside them. My father lingers behind, studying me with a knowing look.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” he asks quietly.
“I was going to. Today. Before we arrived.” I run a hand through my hair. “I just…couldn’t find the right moment.”
“There is no right moment for this kind of revelation, son.” He shakes his head. “She seems like quite a remarkable woman. Strong.”
“She is.” My voice cracks slightly. “And I may have just lost her.”
My father squeezes my shoulder. “If she’s as remarkable as she seems, perhaps not.
But it won’t be easy.” He pauses, looking toward the house where my mother is already gesturing expansively as she guides Sophia through the entrance.
“She’ll either walk out tonight or be family forever. No in-between with that one.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“You’ll have to fight for her,” he says simply. “But first, you’ve got some groveling to do.”
As we follow the others toward the house, I can see Sophia’s back—straight, tense, her head tilted slightly as she listens to my mother describe the original painting in the entryway. Madison is a few steps ahead, practically bouncing with excitement.
The contrast between them is a perfect visual representation of my dilemma. Madison, delighted by the discovery; Sophia, processing betrayal with every step.
I’d wanted so badly for her to love my home country, my family, the beautiful place where I’d grown up. But I’d failed to understand that by hiding such a fundamental part of my identity, I’d made that impossible. Because how could she love a man she didn’t really know?
The realization hits me with crushing force: in my fear of being judged for my family’s wealth, I’d become something far worse—a man who has systematically deceived the woman he loves.
And now I have to face the consequences.